By Dave Donovan
“She won’t be suffering any longer” becomes your incantation while you finger-comb her fur and wait for the second shot to stop her obedient heart.
At home the squeaking squirrels lie quiet in knotted plastic bags headed for the dump and the round fleece bed’s folded, a last quarter moon on a basement shelf. You play some music, a modest effort to hide new silence.
But in the morning you can’t ignore the sun pouring through the skylight, showering warm quadrangles she used to inch along in her carpet dreams, a four-legged sundial keeping time for you and the Sunday paper.
Thank you for this story, it really affected me greatly (I’ve had to let go of a few pets in the past few years). Wonderful.
Yeah, I’ve had to take a few beloved pets in for their “final sleep” shots in the past; the experience always hurts like hell! It’s like having a loved one die–because that’s exactly what happens. This is a great story, Dave. A real WINNER.
This is a simple but powerful story. Anyone who has ever had a pet will not fail to identify and be moved. I particularly like your moon and sun (dial) metaphors. Gives the tale cosmic proportions, and justly so.
This is just so very beautiful. Could not have been easy to write. I hope it was cathartic.
Very nice. Moving. What a great image, the sunny quadrangles, the four-legged sundial.
This sure captured the melancholy beauty of a loved pet’s passing.